Illustration of Life...Is Why I write

I write of the stigma....of myself,
In relation to the outer world....I write of me walking,
In the middle of the changing world, and how I feel,
As the clock of my consiousness is at a standstill....still wondering,
Of the others that are passing, clocks upon them , as well as the others still to be....
I this the final stroke....of the clock of my maturity?
Is this the end of my growth? Or, at the very least, the acme of it?
...I also write of disdainful disappointments of everyday everyone,
Since the dawn of man...has had a real or perceived eleventh hour.
I write of my misery of is it fearful and grievous to many,
And the empty feelings within are taken, all the hopes and inspirations...vanish.
How the vanity of life is quite scary...and yet, how life is so precious,
Because of that truth....that it is so short, and not as expendable.
As invaluable as many think is moreso.
More lovely beauty of roses, more valuable than rubies or diamonds...
More sacred than any vow or creed, amongst many sworn and broken,
Is the value of life....because of it's scarcity, and also for it's originality.
I write of others I've met....I've written of charming seductresses,
Whose lips of crimson and locks of sienna brown....enticed those,
Even those who were more lovely than she....yet who fell for dissentiousness.
I've also spoken of intellectuals....of their intelletual prowess and ambition,
To yearn for quests for wisdom....yet found that knowledge is not always akin to it...
For knowledge is wired on the gathering of facts, and wisdom is on the application of facts.
I've written of visual artists....who looked for beauty and perfection in people as their artwork,
And found criticism to be effective...not as a tool of improvement, but for control.
I've found them to fall as well...for they were so intent on perfection,
That they did not address their own imperfections, nor see the beauty of imperfection.
Imperfection is the beauty of humanity....for it ignites humor, adventure, and conquest.
....These are the things I write of...of life, in a variety of spectrums...
I may write in realistic or surrealistic form,'s my portral of life,
Symbolic or actual, that encourages all my poetry.


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